


learn.

by hirschmania



Series: Shy Lady; Sweet Skeleton [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Big Sans, Bullying, F/M, Implied Date Rape, You thought wrong, shy!reader, smol!reader, you thought this series was going to be happy didn't you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 03:17:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6735871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hirschmania/pseuds/hirschmania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there's anything Sans has learned over the past six months, it's you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	learn.

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY so major trigger warning for implied date rape and bullying in this instalment. this gets pretty serious. 
> 
> also i love your stupid faces omg. thank you for leaving kudos and reviewing the last two parts. I hope you like this one!! 
> 
> http://sin-mania.tumblr.com/

If there is anything Sans has learned in this past six months, its you.    
  
He had taken the time to learn you. He had memorized your every laugh, every varying degree of happiness, every degree of sadness that you could express. He had memorized your voice, soft and kind and patient. He’d memorized every aspect of your personality, the good, the bad and the ugly.    
  
He knew every curve of your body, from the dip of your hips, to the curve of your stomach. He knew how smooth your skin was. He knew your eyes, two sphere’s a color he can only describe as hypnotising. He knew your every expression, he knew how you felt in his arms. He knew how you kissed him, how you made those small, soft noises of content whenever he made the first movie. You really liked it when he did that. He knew your levels of comfort and discomfort, he knew every strand of hair on your head.    
  
There was just one thing he didn’t know just yet.    
  
Your soul.   
  
He was sure it was beautiful. He sure of many things about your soul. He had guessed it’s color (Aqua. It stood for Patience.), hadn’t dared to look yet.    
  
He thinks, maybe, he wants you to be awake when he does. Though he knows in his metaphorical heart he loves you, and that you love him, something had him... apprehensive. Soul touching was... a delicate subject with most monsters, himself included. He didn’t want to cross and lines or boundaries, lest he risk losing you forever.    
  
He thinks that, perhaps, when the time comes, he’d get hold your soul in his hands, and he’d be eternally grateful. 

* * *

Your day had started off like any other since you started dating Sans. Be woken up by your alarm, wring yourself out of his iron grip (much to Sans’ own displeasure), hop into the shower, get dressed, pulls Sans out of bed because god knows he never get up on his own, get some coffee from the kitchen, have Sans teleport you to work, and get a fleeting kiss from the skeleton before you dash inside.    
  
The Library wasn’t that bad of a job. You checked books back in and put them on their shelves, mostly. It’ wasn’t all bad.    
  
The only time it was bad was when you had panic attacks. You’ve worked here for years, but yet you somehow manage to have at least one panic attack the week. At least, you did before you started dating Sans. Since you started going out it's been happening less often. Work Panic Attacks only happy two or three times a months now.    
  
Mornings are usually slow. Which is why you always volunteer to work them. You usually get home by the after school rush. Having one or two other employees usually helps, too.    
  
Your favorite shift though is opening. You’re home early (usually around lunch) and you get to relax at home for the rest of the day.    
  
You’re turning on the computers at the front desk when your phone dings.   
  
sans: and as usual, i miss you already.    
sans: i’m not gonna lie babe i’m not so sure how much longer i can take this    
  
You blush. Oh dear.    
  
You: Sorry...... i‘ll be home later   
  
sans: i don’t want you home later i want you home now   
  
You sigh. He was so needy. Then again, you were too.    
  
You: sorry :( I need to work   
You: if it means anything, I wish i could have cuddled with you all morning   
You: i promise I’ll make it up to you later though   
  
A beat. You sigh, busying yourself with getting everything in order before officially opening the doors.    
  
sans: oh?    
sans: enlighten me, darling. how will you make this up to me?    
  
Your face goes bright red. Oh god. He’s doing it again.    
  
You: Sans no   
  
sans: sans yes ;)   
  
You sigh. It was pointless dealing with him at this hour. You decide not to respond. You finish the usual morning chores, your boss comes in and greets you, and you sit at the front desk.    
  
You decide you feel bad about ignore Sans. You check your phone.    
  
sans: hey um can i ask you something   
  
You blink. Something seems off. Like he’s nervous about something, contrary to how he was just a few mere minutes ago.    
  
You: Sure. what’s wrong?   
  
sans: oh man uh   
sans: do you... do you trust me?   
  
You stare at your screen in confusion. Huh?   
  
You: of course I do!! you’re my boyfriend why wouldn’t I trust you??   
  
sans: heh.   
sans: sorry. just... thinking, i guess.    
  
You frown. You’re getting worried about him.    
  
You: Do you want to talk abt it??   
  
sans: when you get home. this is something we should talk about in person.   
sans: pretty uh. personal.    
  
You sigh. Oh well. You’d just have to talk to him about it later. 

* * *

“Sans?” your voice is quakey and nervous when you walk inside your apartment.    
  
“i’m in the bedroom, babe.” he calls from your room. You sigh. Let’s do this.    
  
You walk in, and you see him, skeletal hands folded in his lap as he stares at the floor. He looks like he’s been deep in thought all day.    
  
“hey, hon.” he says. You smile at his sheepish expression. You walk over to him and lean down to kiss him. He hums pleasantly, cupping your face. “mmm...” he pulls away, “as much as i love kissin’ ya, babe, we should talk.”   
  
You nod, sitting next to him. “What’s wrong?”    
  
“oh boy.” he sighs, “where to start...” he ponders for a few moments, then turns to you. “you know how much i love you right?” he asks, and you nod mutely. “right. well. uh.” he sighs, “sorry. i, uh, can’t think of the right words.”   
  
You hum. “Well... i-instead of t-telling me, why don’t you just s-show me?”   
  
His face goes bright blue. He looks like a blueberry. It’s actually kinda cute. “w-well,” he sputters, “uh... y-you sure? i mean...”    
  
“Sans.” you say, placing a hand on his. “I trust you. I-I know you won’t hurt me.”    
  
He sighs. “okay. okay, lemme just...” the door to your bedroom shuts. He must have used magic to close it again. Sans picks you up and gently lays you down on the bed. he crawls on top of you, looking exceptionally nervous. He hooks his left arm under you, pulling towards him. He presses his forehead to yours, and closes his eyes. “can’t believe m’ actually about to do this.” he mumbles, mostly to himself.    
  
HIs eyes travel down to you chest. They stay there for a moment for two. You’re nervous, almost as nervous as he looks, but you decide to trust him. You give him a patient smile. He smiles softly back at you. He mumbles something under his breath. Then he takes his free hand and hovers it over your chest, and his eyes change from the usual soft white lights to a black voided socket and a bright blue flame.

* * *

He can’t believe it.    
  
Your soul is even more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.    
  
It’s a combination soul. You have the Aqua of Patience, like he had assumed initially, the Dark Blue of Integrity, the Green of Kindness and was that the Red of Determination he saw?    
  
Sans was floored. God, you were so beautiful. Just looking at it he could tell. You were a good person--   
  
Wait.    
  
Was that... a crack?    
  
Souls usually only have cracks in them when they’ve been damaged... this damage doesn’t look recent, either. It looks like... a scar.    
  
Your soul is scarred.    
  
An anger like no other fills him from the core of his soul all through his bones. Who did this? Who would even dare scar a soul so... beautiful and precious? Souls like yours were so very rare... such a rare mix of attributes.    
  
He has to know. He he has to find out who did this to you.    
  
Carefully and slowly, he draws out your soul, cradling it in his hand. He slips his other arm out from under you, cupping it in both his hands. He smiles, just a bit, before, carefully dipping one of his phangles into the core.    
  
Sight before his eyes, he sees it all. Chapter by chapter, your life unfolds before his eyes. Sans watches with bated breath as you life up until the current moment is told to him like a story.    
  
Your childhood is lonely. You’re very quiet and reserved, and no one seems interested in talk to you. At least, in a friendly way. You’re bullied. A lot. Emotionally, physically. It create a lot of mental strain on you. You cry and you cry, and you softly whisper “please leave me be”. Sans can feel his soul breaking for you.    
  
Your teenage years are more or less the same as your childhood, with one staunch difference.    
  
You met someone. His name is Adam. He has slick, black hair and wears a leather jacket. You don’t know why he’s bothering talking to you. But Sans does. He knows. The second he lays eyes on him, a fire lights within his metophoral belly and he wishes this were real, because he’d tear you away from him. Maybe he’d avoid you getting hurt.    
  
Maybe your soul wouldn’t be cracked.    
  
It’s prom night. Adam takes you. You’re a wallflower the whole time. Adam doesn’t mind. He doesn’t like parties like much either.    
  
You leave early. You’re feeling lightheaded. You start walking to Adam’s car. You pass out halfway there.    
  
The next memory is of you waking up on a sidewalk not far from your house.    
  
Sans is furious. How dare he, that fucking bastard. Humans could just be so vile sometimes. It made him sick. Shaking, you stand. You tremble. You have tear streaks on your cheeks.    
  
Sans swears to himself in that moment if he ever meets Adam, he’s going to break his fucking neck.    
  
Adulthood is lonely. You stop talking. You’re a mute for three years. No one talks to you. You get your job at library. You move into your apartment.    
  
But you don’t have anyone. You don’t really talk to your parents outside of holidays. You have no siblings. You’re alone. Always, always alone.    
  
But then barrier breaks. You blink, shocked, when you find out. You’re terrified. All Monsters mean for you is more people to hurt you. You’re tired of getting hurt. But you’re also too scared to do anything about it.    
  
Then a change. Something good happens. Finally, something good happens.    
  
You meet him.    
  
You’re on your usual shift. The door dings and there’s Papyrus and Frisk, ready to get some books for Frisk’s classes. He walks in behind them, looking just a bit more tired than usual.    
  
Sans smiles to himself. He remembers this all too well.    
  
He leans against the counter. He smiles, watching his brother and sibling pick out which books they need.    
  
He glances at you, quickly. You’re trying not to stare, but you can’t help it. You meet each other’s gazes, and both of you quickly look away.    
  
Sans remembers having the recognition of ‘wow, she’s really cute’ at this point. He flushes just thinking about it.    
  
He clears his throat. “hey.”    
  
You look up. “U-Um... hello.”    
  
He tries his best to come off as friendly. He knows he can look a bit intimidating, considering his size. He’s not sure what he should say, so he falls back on what he usually does.    
  
He opens with a joke.   
  
“why’d the stadium get hot after the game?”    
  
You blink. You tilt your head in that really cute way that he just adored. “Um... I-I don’t know. Why?”    
  
He snickers. “all the fans left.”   
  
You blink, then after a moment, gasp. You have to hide behind your hand as you laugh. Sans remembers thinking that your laugh was the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. He had to do it again. So he does. And you laugh some more.    
  
Eventually, as you’re checking out the books they chose, he asks for your number. You stare, a distinct blush creeping across your face. Then you let out the cutest squeaking noise that makes his soul skip a beat, scrambling for your phone. You exchange numbers with him, and he smiles. Your whole relationship with him plays out before his eyes. He realizes, though, that you only really talk to him. He supposed that was to be expected; you’d spent years in solitude.    
  
His vision washes white, and he’s back in reality looking down at you. Your face is bright red.    
  
He smiles, closing his eyes and releasing your soul. 

* * *

Allow Sans to touch your soul feels... odd.    
  
You can actually feel him. Like he’s a part of you. You can feel him as he sees your whole life. You feel vulnerable. You feel everything he does. You feel his sadness at seeing your childhood, his unfathomable rage at Adam. His bittersweet happiness at seeing your soul.    
  
You feel so much that, when it’s over, you feel kind of numb.    
  
When he’s done he plops next to you. He’s panting, and you find when you look over at him, the usual soft, round lights of his eye sockets are hearts. “i love you.” he breathes, voice barely audible.    
  
You turn on your side. You’re really tired. “...wow.” you end up saying eventually. “That was... wow.”    
  
“what?” he asks.   
  
“That was... r-really, uh... you know...”   
  
“intense?” he supplies.    
  
“Y-Yeah... intense.” you yawn. “I’m... really tired now though.”    
  
He smiles. “yeah. me too. you wanna nap?” he asks.    
  
You nod. “Mmhm.”    
  
He chuckles. He sits up and removes his jacket, getting under the blanket. You kick off your jeans tiredly. “c’mere, love.” he says, and you blush. Ugh, you were just fine with most of his nicknames, but when he calls you that you flush and get all embarassed. Sans seems to notice this and his chuckles a you bury your face in his ribcage.    
  
“love you.” he whispers, placing a soft kiss on your crown.    
  
“Love you too.” you say, and you drift off into a deep sleep, your soul and his alight like a flame as they burn together.


End file.
